


Letting Go

by fredbassett



Series: Stephen/Ryan series [47]
Category: Primeval
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2013-10-29
Packaged: 2017-12-30 21:30:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1023592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fredbassett/pseuds/fredbassett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stephen wonders if he will ever get Ryan to relax after the week from hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letting Go

“Get those weapons cleaned and checked back in!” Ryan’s voice was clipped and hard.

The soldiers hurried to do his bidding without any of their usual banter.

Stephen followed them into the building through the enormous doors from the internal parking area and across the cavernous central control room of their new headquarters. The last few weeks had been a hectic scramble both to move into fresh premises and deal with a rash of increasingly troublesome anomalies which had sprung up around the Home Counties. The response teams had been stretched all too thinly and by now everyone was living on their nerves, scientists and military alike.

Today had been particularly difficult, with an anomaly opening in an underground car park and disgorging a pack of vicious and agile raptors. Two adults had died before the team had arrived on site and Ryan had ended up cradling an 11 year old girl in his arms while she died. He was still covered in her blood.

The soldiers always took any death to heart, blaming themselves for any civilian casualties, but it was always worse when it involved children. On this occasion, even Cutter hadn’t argued when Ryan had immediately implemented a ‘shoot to kill’ policy.

Today’s deaths brought the week’s total up to seven, but the toll was a fact that even Lester knew better than to remark on. Stephen watched him exchange glances with Lyle and receive an almost imperceptible shake of the head in response to his elegantly-raised eyebrows, before the normally insouciant lieutenant headed off to the armoury to return his own personal arsenal.

“I’ll take that for you, if you like, sir,” volunteered Finn, holding his hand out for Stephen’s L96 sniper rifle.

“Thanks,” said Stephen, with a tired smile, “but I checked it out. The mood Ryan’s in, he’ll probably have the balls off the pair of us if we don’t follow procedure.”

Finn nodded, understanding showing in the young man’s dark eyes. “She looked like his daughter, didn’t she, sir?”

Stephen nodded. The resemblance to Vicky had been too close for comfort and he knew Ryan had taken the girl’s death hard. Hell, they all had.

It took Stephen ten minutes to strip down and clean the rifle, the mechanical nature of the actions helping to clear his mind of some of the day’s sights. He then reassembled the weapon, replaced it on the rack and checked his unused bullets back in, noting on the computer log how many rounds had been fired.

He’d taken no more than two steps towards the door before a shrill alarm sounded in every room of the ARC as Connor’s prototype Anomaly Detection Device went off for the third time that day. So far, the ratio of real shouts to false alarms seemed to be running at around 1 to 3, but they still couldn’t afford to take any chances.

Unfortunately for them, Connor seemed reasonably certain the machine was functioning properly, so without even having time to grab a cup of coffee or a change of clothes, they were back on the road again, heading for a spot somewhere in the middle of Epping Forest.

They found the anomaly after a route march through a particularly trackless area of woodland which seemed determined to bugger up their GPS reception as much as possible. Eventually, when they got near enough, Connor’s new portable detection device was able to take over and guide them in.

As far as Stephen could tell from the damp ground, nothing had come through, or at least nothing heavy enough to leave tracks. At Ryan’s insistence, he took Finn and swept ever-widening circles out from the anomaly site, checking and checking again for tracks. They reported back in after each sweep, but each time Ryan simply ordered them back out again. The Special Forces captain was taking no chances. After the third time they returned to the anomaly, Stephen was sorely tempted to point out that they were now chasing wild geese, but one look at his lover’s grim face told him that any attempt to challenge Ryan’s orders would not be well received.

On their fourth sweep of the woods it started pissing down, and the rain continued to fall throughout the evening. The anomaly finally winked out of existence at 2am, allowing a bunch of freezing cold scientists and their escorts to head back to the ARC to check their weapons in for the third time in the last 24 hours.

It was 4am before Stephen and Ryan finally made it back to Stephen’s flat and by then, both men were too exhausted to do anything other than fall straight into bed.

That day set the tone for the most punishing week Stephen had ever known during his time on the anomaly project. Two days later, their already over-stretched resources became even more of an issue when Captain Stringer’s team was whisked away with no prior notice and no explanation. In response to Cutter’s quite justifiable complaints, Lester had simply suggested he address his concerns to the Home Secretary, and for a horrible moment, Stephen had half-expected Cutter to do just that, but fortunately he had contented himself with bending Claudia’s somewhat more accommodating ear.

Ryan worked his lads hard, but he drove himself even harder and, after a couple of abortive attempts to get him to relax, Stephen had simply taken the line of least resistance and just done whatever he could behind the scenes to make his lover’s life easier. In practice, that had mainly consisted of making sure Ryan kept his calorie and caffeine intakes at sustainable levels. The small amount of free time they’d managed to snatch had been spent sleeping.

Friday had brought a small cessation in anomaly-related activity and by then, even Lester had acknowledged that Ryan needed a break, whether he wanted one or not. The Special Forces captain had been ordered out of the ARC and told not to return until Monday morning unless – quite literally – all hell broke out, an occurrence that wouldn’t entirely have surprised Stephen after the week they’d all been subjected to.

The drive back to Stephen’s flat was accomplished in silence. They were too attuned to each other’s moods for the lack of small talk to be uncomfortable, but that didn’t stop Stephen wracking his brain for the means of breaking through Ryan’s mood and finally getting the soldier to relax. In the time they’d been together he’d never seen Ryan quite so emotionally closed down and, Stephen guessed, much of it stemmed from the experience of having a child, who resembled his daughter far too much for comfort, die in his arms.

Once inside, Stephen headed straight for the fridge and broke out a beer for each of them. On impulse, he grabbed the phone, thrust it into his lover’s hands and said, “Ring her, ring Vicky.”

He half-expected an argument, but, after swallowing half of the beer in three long swallows, Ryan punched a series of numbers into the phone and, a few moments later, said, “Hi, sweetheart, it’s Daddy. How are you?”

As Ryan talked to his daughter, Stephen was pleased to see some of the tension starting to leave his lover’s face. As far as he could tell, Vicky was regaling him with a story about a walk her class had been on that day which, thankfully, on this occasion hadn’t involved a trip to the Cretaceous. Always a bonus, in Stephen’s opinion. The call lasted ten minutes, and ended with Ryan receiving a brief, but undoubtedly pointed, grilling on his own well-being from his ex-wife. He told her, with more candour than Stephen had expected, that it had been a shit week and he’d just needed to hear Vicky’s voice. Amanda’s response, whatever it had been, brought a slight smile to Ryan’s face.

He ended the call, finished the beer and remarked, “They both send their love.”

Stephen smiled and went to fetch two more beers. He also grabbed a handful of takeaway menus and waved them in front of Ryan’s nose. “Take your pick.”

In an instant, the fragile semblance of normality that had been gained during the phone call was swept aside and something in Ryan’s expression hardened again. Stephen was a hair’s breadth away from a sharp comment, when the look of exhaustion in his lover’s grey eyes made him bite his words back. Ryan had spent a week giving orders, making decisions and living with the consequences of his actions. He was probably sick to bloody death of making decisions.

“Chinese,” said Stephen on impulse and, without waiting for Ryan to make any comment, he reached for the phone and placed the order, choosing for both of them.

While they waited for the delivery, two more beers followed the first in quick succession. The meal was eaten in companionable silence to the accompaniment of a Friday night humorous news programme.

At ten o’clock, Stephen decided to put the theory he had been developing over the past hour to the test. He stood up, switched off the television and announced, “I’ll do the washing up while you grab a shower.”

Ryan opened his mouth to argue, about what Stephen wasn’t sure, but he had no intention of letting his lover take control of anything.

“I don’t want any bloody arguments from you. I’ve spent the past week taking orders, soldier boy, now it’s turn and turn about. It’s the weekend, you’re off duty, and that means you don’t get to take any decisions or give any orders until Monday morning. Got that?”

Ryan’s nostrils flared the way they did when he was about to get angry, and Stephen expected a hot retort but, to his surprise, none came. Ryan stared at him, speculation warring with irritation in the soldier’s eyes. Stephen could see that the idea of a decision-free weekend held certain attractions.

To make his point, he stepped inside Ryan’s personal space without warning, slipped one hand around the soldier’s waist, the other round his neck and pulled him into a hard kiss. Stephen forced his tongue past Ryan’s lips and plundered his mouth, deliberately allowing his lover no part in the embrace. He felt Ryan stiffen against him and in response Stephen automatically shifted his weight onto both feet, in a fighter’s stance, getting ready to resist a possible counter-move. He knew Ryan was perfectly capable of taking him down in a fight, but long hours of practice against both Ryan and the other Special Forces lads had honed Stephen’s skills to the point where he made a formidable opponent. He was working now on the assumption that Ryan wouldn’t use violence against him, but the slight danger inherent in the situation still went straight to his cock, which he then ground hard against the soldier’s groin.

Ryan gasped into his mouth and Stephen pressed his advantage, deepening the kiss and holding Ryan immobile, while his tongue stabbed into his lover’s mouth. Abruptly, all resistance left Ryan’s body and Stephen felt the soldier give himself up to the kiss, letting Stephen suck hard on his lower lip, then trail hot kisses along the line of his throat, nipping and biting as he went.

Stephen pulled back slightly and, in a voice rough with emotion, ordered, “Shower, then bed.”

Tight-lipped and still tense, Ryan disengaged then headed in the direction of the bathroom. Doing his best to bring his own heart rate under control, Stephen went to do the washing up and return the kitchen to some semblance of order.

He reached the bedroom moments after a still-damp Ryan. Stephen closed the door and dimmed the lights, before leaning against the wall, watching as Ryan towelled the moisture off his body.

Before he’d quite finished, Stephen decided it was time to reassert control. “On the bed, soldier boy, on your back.”

The stiffness in Ryan’s back and shoulders told its own tale, but Stephen held his gaze without flinching, and after a long moment, Ryan dropped the towel and went to take his place on the bed. Stephen’s clothes followed the damp towel onto the floor until he stood by the side of the bed, naked, looking down at Ryan, a slight smile on his face.

For what had been such a shit of a week, Ryan’s body was actually unmarked for once, and Stephen took in the sight of strong, tanned limbs and a cock that was starting to show the first signs of interest. Without speaking, Stephen rummaged in the drawer of the bedside table and drew out two soft, black leather straps. Ryan’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing.

“Close your eyes,” Stephen ordered.

Ryan stared up at him, grey eyes flint-hard, and tension radiating from every pore. For a moment, Stephen was convinced he was simply going to get up, pull his clothes on and leave. It became a battle of wills between them - one that Stephen was not convinced he was going to win.

To his surprise, Ryan broke eye contact first and Stephen saw a shiver run through the soldier’s body. He wanted to kneel on the bed, pull Ryan into his arms and stroke his hair, but he knew gentleness wasn’t what his lover needed at the moment. He’d tried that during the week, to no avail. Stephen closed his own eyes for a moment, and offered up a silent prayer to any deity who happened to be listening that he would be able to give Ryan what he needed.

* * * * *

Ryan dropped his eyes and obeyed the instruction to close them.

Even that small act of giving up control felt good. It felt so bloody good not to be the one in charge for the first time in a very long week. He drew in a shuddering breath then let it out slowly. Ryan had no idea what Stephen would do next and, right now, he didn’t really care. All he wanted was Stephen to succeed in driving out the images that were piling in around him.

Blood-stained faces, accusing faces, the faces of the all civilians he’d failed to save, the faces of their loved ones, crowding in on him from all sides.

Ryan was yanked abruptly from his destructive reverie by the feel of a leather strap being looped around one wrist. Instinctively, he tried to drag his arm away.

“Don’t fucking move!” The words were spoken quietly, but with force.

Ryan tensed, but obeyed the order. The strap was fastened to the sturdy wooden bed-post with quick efficiency and before Ryan had chance to object, Stephen did the same with his other wrist. Ryan flexed his arm muscles and only succeeded in tightening the leather against his wrists. It was supple but strong and he knew from past experience that Stephen knew how to tie knots.

The soldier felt a small stab of apprehension when he realised that Stephen hadn’t asked for a safe word. He opened his eyes and found himself staring into twin pools of midnight blue looking down at him, strangely devoid of expression.

“We’re going to do this my way tonight, Ryan,” Stephen said, softly. “I’ll decide what you want, and I’ll decide when you get it. I told you before you’ve taken your last decision for the weekend. We do things my way from now on.”

In spite of his situation, Ryan felt his cock start to stir. He could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times they’d played bondage games with him on the receiving end. He didn’t give up control easily and Stephen knew it. But he had to admit that there were times when he did like a little added spice with his pleasure.

Ryan knew full well that he was coiled as tight as an over-wound spring. Throughout the week from hell, he’d driven his team hard and himself harder. Switching off wasn’t easy at the best of times and the past week certainly hadn’t been the best of times. Relinquishing control now was hard and every instinct was screaming at him to demand release from the bonds, but warring with instinct was the need for a more basic kind of release. His cock was fully hard now, lying hot and heavy on his taut stomach.

Stephen ran a finger lightly from root to tip, his face thoughtful. Then without waiting for Ryan’s reaction, he got up from the bed and wandered over to the chest of drawers. Ryan watched Stephen rootle around before he straightened up with a light woollen scarf in his hands. Without any question or discussion, Stephen lifted Ryan’s head off the pillow far enough for him to loop the scarf around Ryan’s face, drawing the two ends together and blindfolding him.

The sudden loss of sight made Ryan tense again, straining hard against the leather straps holding his wrists.

“Easy,” murmured Stephen. “You don’t want to watch what I’m doing, all you want to do is feel.”

To reinforce the point, Ryan felt that same finger tracing its way up from his balls again, pressing against the vein on the underside of his cock. Stephen’s touch was light, but it made Ryan’s hard flesh twitch, rearing up to follow the stimulus.

He heard Stephen chuckle, then the movement was repeated again and again. When the finger finally withdrew, Ryan’s breathing was coming faster and, without conscious thought, he’d spread his legs, craving more of his lover’s touch.

Warm hands settled on his waist and started to stroke up his chest, strong thumbs rubbing small circles on his skin as the hands travelled upwards. Ryan felt each of his nipples being taken lightly between finger and thumb and rolled, hardening them to small erect nubs of sensation, connected direct to his groin by lines of dancing fire.

His cock twitched, begging for attention.

The hands withdrew, to be replaced by a warm mouth and a wet tongue which lapped and teased at his flesh. Stephen sucked one of Ryan’s nipples into his mouth, pulling gently on it at first, flicking his tongue over it, before he started to nip gently, sending sharp spikes of pleasure through Ryan’s body, hovering on that fine line between pleasure and pain. Ryan’s other nipple was given the same treatment, then Stephen started to work his way upwards to the hollow of Ryan’s throat.

His lover was intent on kissing his way up and down Ryan’s whole body, covering every inch of skin with feather-light touches of his mouth and hands.

Gradually, Ryan found that he was coming close to losing himself in a world that had narrowed down to nothing more than sensation. The faces that had haunted both his waking and his sleeping hours for the past week started to recede, leaving him alone in a dimension where all that mattered was where his lover’s lips would fall next.

A light brush of tongue against Ryan’s lips drew a needy groan from him. Stephen licked gently round his mouth, paying special attention to Ryan’s lower lip, before moving on to the sensitive spot behind each ear-lobe, which was always guaranteed to raise Ryan’s heartbeat. He turned his head, allowing his lover better access. That drew another soft chuckle from Stephen and warm breath ghosted in Ryan’s ear.

Two strong hands travelled back down Ryan’s body to settle on his thighs, before drawing them apart, allowing Stephen to nuzzle at the light covering of hair on his legs, rubbing the stubble on his cheeks against Ryan’s sensitive skin.

Ryan felt movement on the bed, then Stephen’s hands were urging him to lift up his hips so his lover could settle a pillow underneath them, giving Stephen better access to Ryan’s body. Ryan felt the tip of a finger dip down behind his balls and stroke lightly over his hole. Automatically, Ryan tensed, feeling suddenly vulnerable again. The stroking continued, but Stephen made no attempt to breach him.

Without warning, Ryan felt a warm tongue lap at the head of his cock, teasing the slit and swirling tantalisingly around his flesh. He moaned and tried to thrust up into Stephen’s mouth but a soft laugh was all that greeted his efforts and, a moment later, Stephen’s tongue started to burrow into his navel instead. Ryan groaned in frustration and tugged against the bindings on his wrists.

Stephen seemed determined to lick and kiss his way over every inch of Ryan’s skin, while his hands stroked and teased. He felt his knees being tugged up and spread apart, then, without warning, cool lube was slicked into the crack of his arse and a forefinger gently opened him. Ryan shivered, feelings of vulnerability assailing him again. Long fingers curled loosely around his cock and started to jack him slowly, in time with the movement in his arse. A second finger followed the first, crooked inside him and rubbed lightly over his prostate, setting off sparks on every nerve-ending.

Sweat sprung out on his body and Ryan moaned, pressing down on the probing fingers. A moment later, he felt the blunt head of Stephen’s cock nudging at his entrance. He was barely prepared enough, still tight and tense, but he wanted this – needed this. Stephen’s hands hooked under his knees, forcing his legs up and back. Stephen leaned forwards, pressing inexorably into Ryan’s body and thrust slowly, balls deep, opening Ryan up, stretching and filling him in a way that left no room for cruel phantoms in his mind.

Ryan’s world narrowed to the sensation of Stephen’s cock penetrating his body, sliding over his prostate, bursting pleasure deep inside him. His arms strained against the leather holding him in place and he could smell the musk of his own sweat.

Hands slid up his chest and along his arms then Ryan felt Stephen adjust his position to take the weight on his hands, thrusting harder and faster, his balls slapping against Ryan’s arse, every stroke forcing sensation deep inside him. Ryan was panting now, pressing back to meet every thrust, chasing his own pleasure like a dream, conscious of nothing now other than the feel of his lover’s cock pounding inexorably into him.

Each thrust made his cock jump against his belly and drove the breath from Ryan’s lungs, leaving him panting, every nerve strung tight with pleasure lightly seasoned with pain. He could feel heat spreading throughout his body, pooling low in his guts. It was unusual for him to be able to come with no direct stimulation to his cock, but it seemed that Stephen was determined to drive him over the edge like this, even though Ryan was now writhing and begging to be touched, his voice rough with entreaty.

Every time Stephen’s hard cock slid over that small nub inside him, Ryan cried out, his chest arching off the bed as he strained to thrust back with his hips to meet every stroke. He was so close, so fucking close, but release still hovered just outside of his reach.

Strong hands steadied his hips, holding him in place as the pounding continued. He could feel the wetness of pre-come on his stomach. Stephen was panting now, his rhythm starting to falter. Every muscle in Ryan’s body tensed, the pleasure intensifying almost unbearably, but he still couldn’t reach that elusive climax. He could feel himself stretched almost to the point of pain. Then with another slight shift in position, Stephen’s cock started to nail his prostate on every stroke, forcing a cry from Ryan’s lips.

“Let go, soldier boy,” urged Stephen, his voice low and husky with need. “Come for me.”

That was all the permission Ryan needed. His arse tightened around Stephen’s cock and he felt the splatter of warm come across his chest. The sensation of release swept through Ryan like a molten tide, leaving him quivering and gasping in its wake. He felt Stephen’s rhythm falter and with a groan, his lover emptied himself into Ryan’s receptive body.

With a cry, Ryan let himself slip into welcoming darkness, this time without fear.

* * * * *

Stephen came awake with the dawn, the way he always did, sleeping with the bedroom curtains open even in winter. It was 8am on a grey December morning, and unless Connor’s Detection Device gave the alarm, they had nothing that needed to be done for the rest of the day.

Ryan was curled up on his side, facing away from Stephen, wiffling slightly in his sleep. After their love-making the night before, Stephen had cleaned them both up and they’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms, but not before he had held Ryan while he’d cried and had kissed the tears from his lover’s cheeks.

After the emotion of the previous night, Stephen fully expected Ryan to sleep late, but the dictates of his own bladder soon drove him out of bed. After a visit to the bathroom, he pulled on the fleecy brown dressing-gown that Ryan always claimed made him look like an over-sized teddy bear and went in search of tea and toast.

A while later, with bacon sizzling in the pan, filling the kitchen with a savoury smell, the sound of the telephone gave Stephen an unwelcome jolt. He grabbed it quickly, and to his surprise found himself talking to Amanda, Ryan’s ex-wife.

“How’s Tom?” she demanded, without preamble. “He sounded bloody awful last night.”

“Less tense,” Stephen said, hoping that assessment still held good when his lover woke up. “It was a bad week.”

Amanda knew enough about their line of work not to probe any deeper, but the sympathetic noise she made was acknowledgment enough. When Stephen had first got together with Ryan, relations with his ex-wife had been non-existent and the soldier had had no access to the daughter he adored for several years, since the divorce had been finalised. The loss of a school party, which had included Vicky, through an anomaly in the Lake District had finally succeeded in thawing the ice between them, and now Ryan and Stephen were frequent visitors to Tarnthwaite, the rambling farmhouse owned by Amanda and her new husband, Greg, a man for whom the two of them had nothing but respect.

“What are you two doing at Christmas, Stephen?” demanded Amanda. “And if the answer is ‘working’, I may well have to change James Lester’s mind for him.”

“We’ll be on call,” Stephen said, “but unless something comes up, we should be able to get away to the cottage for a couple of days.” He was referring to the small cottage in Suffolk, bequeathed to Ryan by his grandmother.

“Come up here,” Amanda said. “We’d love to have you both, and Vicky would be over the moon. You can go to the cottage at New Year instead. Please, Stephen? At least think about it and talk to Tom.”

Stephen smiled. His lover’s ex-wife normally had all the directness of an armour-piercing shell and this was the first time he’d ever heard Amanda Thornton get even close to wheedling. “I don’t need to talk to him. It’s my weekend for taking the decisions. If you’re sure, we’d love to come.”

“That’s wonderful. We won’t say anything to Vicky, in case something comes up at the last moment, but tell James that I won’t accept anything less than a herd of woolly mammoths in Hyde Park as an excuse. Give my love to him and Jon.”

“I will,” Stephen promised. “Thanks, Amanda. This will mean a lot to Ryan.”

He replaced the phone, a large smile on his face, then whipped the frying pan off the heat before the bacon turned too crispy.

“Smells good,” said Ryan’s voice from the doorway. “Do we get to eat it before, or after, the next job?”

“That wasn’t a shout,” Stephen said, smiling. “That was Amanda. We’re going to Tarnthwaite for Christmas.”

Ryan’s eyes widened in surprise.

Stephen crossed the distance between them in two quick strides and pulled his lover into a long kiss. Ryan relaxed in his arms, defences still down and allowed Stephen to plunder his mouth at leisure.

When they drew apart, Stephen murmured, “I told you I was going to be the one taking the decisions this weekend.”

Ryan slipped his arms round Stephen’s waist and rested his head on Stephen’s shoulder, with a quiet sigh. It was all the answer Stephen needed. Ryan would get to spend Christmas with the daughter he adored and Stephen would be with the man he loved.

Life didn’t get much better than that, in his opinion.

He pressed a light kiss onto Ryan’s cheek. “Now eat your bacon butty before it gets cold.”


End file.
